


forget me not

by harukatenoh



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-24 03:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6140333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harukatenoh/pseuds/harukatenoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are few things in life Natori Shuuichi will openly declare his hatred for. Among those things are; rival exorcists who won't leave him alone, untended gravestones and losing things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a mystery, nothing more to see

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glueskin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glueskin/gifts).



> The Fic is here. i love you henry, i hope you enjoy.
> 
> work title is from forget me not by the civil wars. also, after the flower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from hologram by katie herzig

“Did you know Matoba Seiji?”

Natori looks up at the ayakashi from his book entitled _The History of Ayakashi Curses,_ currently opened to the page on the mentioned name. The spirit is dull and humanoid, the only thing giving away its supernatural status being the piece of paper covering its face and the faded, weak look about it. If Natori had to guess, he would say it had a few weeks to live at best.

He deigns it with a smile and an answer.

“No, I didn’t. But if I did, I think I would’ve hated him.”

The spirit doesn’t react to this beyond a slight nod and continues on its way, as if Natori had never been there.

It takes Natori a few precious seconds to remember himself and turn to the spirit, the question _did you know him?_ dying on his tongue as he takes in the empty scene; the last thing that catches his eye being the swing of a white ponytail behind a tree.

He settles back down into his seat with a sigh, returning to the page kept in his book. The name _Matoba Seiji_ glares up at him in bold, black font, accompanied with a picture of the young man. He would’ve been the same age as Natori if he had been here, Natori notes as he skims the general information  on Matoba, all things he’d already read before.

This book had been hailed as one of the most up to date and expansive volumes on ayakashi curses, and only recently had Natori been able to obtain a copy. He’s seen mentions, rumours, of Matoba before, even looked into it partially, but never privy to the exact details surrounding the other man’s fate.

Of course, as he shifts on the bench, getting comfortable, he thinks he’s about to learn a lot more about the case of Matoba Seiji.

* * *

_Matoba Seiji was the heir to the Matoba clan, soon to be president and a budding talent. He was commended far and wide among the exorcist community for his talent, his efficiency and his resourcefulness. Overall, he was regarded highly, setup to be one of the best exorcists in history._

_He was young and ambitious, and everyone expected great things from him._

_Nobody is quite sure what sparked Matoba to get involved with this particular ayakashi, god level, extremely powerful. Up til that point, he had shown a cunning and consideration in all that he did, being a thorough and calculating individual. It was quite obvious to all among the exorcists that this ayakashi was not one to approach._

_While Matoba’s motivations remain a mystery, his fate is definitely not, even becoming as much of a legend as the man was._

_He suffered from one of the most potent ayakashi curses to date, being powerful as well as cruel. Matoba had offended the god somehow (rumours float around that there was something he refused to give up to the god) and so, he had no other choice but to hunt it down and exterminate it._

_He told nobody else about his predicament, only leaving behind a note detailing everything when he left to find the god. Naturally, this god proved too much for even the prodigy of the Matoba clan, and after being defeated and severely injured, Matoba Seiji’s curse was delivered._

_The god proclaimed, loud enough for the ayakashi and exorcists around the area to hear, Matoba’s curse._

“Within 10 days, without fail, you will vanish. You will disappear, cast from your world. You will give it all up.

Unless you give up _that_ to me in the next 10 days, when the sun sets on that 10th day, you will be lost.”

_Matoba did not give up that thing which the god sought, and so, he disappeared. It takes a lot of energy to cast such a curse, and since the god has been missing since then, it is surmised that it either went into a deep sleep to recover, or vanish from this world along with Matoba._

_Matoba did not carry any mark on his body to indicate his curse, nor was there any buildup to his disappearance. He disappeared standing at the bank of a river, with his clan members and his next chosen heir, looking into the sunset._

_It had been a rather unexciting affair. As the sun set and the light went out, Matoba’s form had simply flickered, overtaken by a white light. This white light grew brighter and soon blinded all the bystanders in one flash, and when it faded, Matoba was gone. Nothing was left behind, no empty robes, not even the book he had grasped in his hand._

_He had simply disappeared, all in all._

_The amount of power released caused many disturbances in the ayakashi world, with some growing stronger and some growing weaker. Exorcists were also affected by this, some’s spiritual powers grew while others lessened._

_These effects were temporary, but it showed the power of the curse on the prodigy. It meant that Matoba had been wiped out completely, or that Matoba had been strong enough to warrant such power._

_After the curse and Matoba’s disappearance, many people close to him found their memories of him dulled, unable to recall him in detail like before._

_Many things about this curse remain a mystery, the whereabouts of the ayakashi, the reasons behind Matoba’s refusal, but one thing is sure; Matoba Seiji had been given one of the cruelest sentences in exorcist history, condemned to be lost to the world._

* * *

Natori feels a frown form on his lips, distaste at the almost epic style of narrative writing the passage had been. Nonetheless, he had learnt a lot, and he can easily feel the pull of curiousity under his skin. He isn’t all too interested in the curse itself, although he doesn’t mind if he picks up some information along the way.

What really interests him is the person who was cursed, the ever elusive Matoba Seiji.

Even though what the book says is true, that many people have difficulty recalling memories of Matoba in clarity, Natori had asked around and eavesdropped enough to have a clear image of the once-prodigy.

He had been cruel and ruthless, stopping at nothing to get what he needs. Cold, unnerving and insincere, all words used to describe the heir. Natori can see it easily, the stance of somebody who knows what their place is in the world, who’s willing to take advantage of that place. A little cocky, mostly collected, and every bit the Matoba clan leader.

Exactly the type of person Natori dislikes.

He hadn’t been lying when he had told that ayakashi that he would’ve hated Matoba, except for one wriggling feeling in the back of his mind.

The voice that repeated _something he refused to give up to the god, even to a god_.

The voice that told him something doesn’t add up in Matoba Seiji’s story, in his curse.

Naturally, to quell this voice, Natori had only one option. Try and find out the truth behind Matoba and his curse, the clan heir and his prized treasure. He had to admit there is something compelling about the tale, the romantic in him stirring.

He smiles absently, closes the book and stands up, next destination already in mind.

* * *

Natori looks up at the imposing main mansion of the Matoba clan and wonders if he could live here. Matoba probably could’ve, it seems to fit the man well. Dark, unforgiving, relentless.

Natori thinks back to his apartment in the city, barely big enough for two people, and feels a twinge of relief he has it to come back to. While it doesn’t feel like _home_ , the feeling of something always being missing pervades, it’s familiar. It’s suited to him.

He walks up to the door, knocking gently on it as he watches Hiiragi disappear into the shadows out of the corner of his eye.

There’s a distant shuffling behind the door, then approaching footsteps until the door is finally pulled open. A severe looking woman stands at the door, expression softening slightly as she catches sight of Natori.

“Ah, young master Natori. What can I do for you?” She greets courteously, any enmity now wiped away completely.

Natori responds with a smile and “Good afternoon, Nanase. Actually, I had some questions about Matoba Seiji, if you don’t mind.”

Something resembling nostalgia crosses Nanase’s face for a fleeting moment, before the amiable mask returns.

“Joining all the young hopefuls looking for information on the curse and the sleeping god are we, Natori?” Nanase says with a smile. If Natori had been any worse at reading people, he would’ve missed the slight hostility under the words.

He shakes his head. “Actually, I’m more interested in Matoba himself.” He explains, turning up his palms appeasingly. Nanase, curious, regards Natori before nodding slightly.

“Very well. Why don’t you come inside?” She turns and heads into the house with Natori following soon after. Natori feels like he’s just passed a test with nagging relief and relaxes the smile he has on his face into a more genuine one. They enter a spacious lounge with a low table in the centre, which Nanase gestures towards.

Natori sits down, Nanase sitting opposite him. A shiki shuffles out from the hallway and places a tea set on the table. It looks at Nanase, who nods in dismissal, before casting its gaze onto Natori. Natori, expecting to be passed over quickly by the ayakashi, is slightly unsettled when its eyes linger on for far longer than necessary, only disrupted by the cough Nanase gives.

The shiki moves away, giving Natori one last stare before disappearing into the darkness of the hallway, and Nanase sighs.

“I apologize. We haven’t had a house guest for a while, so not all of the shiki are accustomed to seeing strange faces.” Natori nods and smiles in understanding, reaching for the cup of tea and settling into a comfortable sitting position.

“So then,” Nanase says, “what would you like to know?”

Natori flicks through the lines he had prepared earlier in his head and says “I understand you were very close to Matoba. Do you remember anything about him?”

Nanase hesitates, folding her hands on the table in front of her and staring down at them. Natori waits and sips at his tea quietly, giving her some time.

“I’m sure that we were close, considering my position as clan advisor and his position as clan head, but I’m afraid that I can barely remember anything about Matoba.”

While the information isn’t surprising, Natori can’t help the shards of disappointment that lodge in his throat, mangling the words that come out next.

“I’m very sorry to hear that.”

Nanase easily picks up the disappointment in the words but instead of the hostility he anticipates, Nanase’s eyes crinkle up in a smile.

Natori looks at her curiously as she smiles softly at him, far too genuine to fit Natori’s near stranger status.

“As of late, the Matoba clan doors have rarely opened for anybody, but you remind me of somebody, so I’ll help you out. When I asked the clan for possible information on Matoba, these three exorcists were the most willing to share.” Nanase passes over a small slip of paper as she talks, the neat handwriting spelling out the names. Natori knows all three despite his tendency to steer clear of the Matoba clan and its associates and he accepts the paper with a smile and a nod.

“I am very grateful for your help. Thank you.” Natori says, bowing his head down respectfully. Even if her reasons for assisting him were vague, he’s willing to take it nonetheless, so the gratitude is sincere. If it also keeps him on the good side of the Matoba clan, well, he won’t complain about that either.

Nanase bows her head in return, wishing him well in his pursuits and standing up. He follows her back down the hallway, catching the eye of the shiki from before as he passes. Its gaze still lingers uncomfortably, not all hostile but not all welcoming, and he’s glad for the sight of the doorway at the end of the hall.

Nanase bids him goodbye as he steps out to the sight of Hiiragi and Urihime, the latter back from the mission he had sent her out on earlier.

With another thanks and a farewell, Natori watches as the door closes on him and the Matoba mansion returns to what it once was, always was. Dark, imposing, unforthcoming.

Hiiragi inclines her head at him as they walk away, a silent question. Natori answers it by raising the paper lodged between his fingers, fluttering slightly as he moved his hand.

“We have some names. People who possibly knew about Matoba.”

Hiiragi nods at this, still silent and succinct. Natori doesn’t expect anything less from her. If his gaze had been trained on Urihime, trailing behind the two, he would’ve caught the stormy gaze she shot Hiiragi, the thinning of her lips, the narrowing of her eyes.

However, he isn’t privy to this and so continues on his way peacefully, the only audience to Urihime’s dissatisfaction Hiiragi’s expressionless mask.


	2. a hint of light in the dark, only enough to keep from giving up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from thread by now, now

“You want to know about Matoba Seiji?” The exorcist snorts, loud and boisterous, in the face of Natori’s smile. It’s stretched thin but still passes as an amiable expression (Natori is no amateur, after all) and allows Natori to seethe about the exorcist’s attitude inside his head to his heart’s content. 

Under normal circumstances, Natori wouldn't have been this phased by the near overwhelming presence of the other exorcist, pushed back against the bar stool until he was almost at his limit. However, Natori had suffered through a trying day, the other two exorcists whom Natori had called unable to assist him in his quest. One had been downright unwilling, the other flighty and young, too inexperienced and nervous for Natori to handle.

That left his last lead as this man in front of him, with one hand curled around a cup of sake and the other waving generously in the air. The hand is accompanied by a chorus of  _ hmm _ s and  _ oh yes, Matoba Seiji _ s, leaving Natori ready to give up on him as well and return to his apartment. 

Before he can leave, however, the man places down the sake cup and gives a sigh.

"I'll admit," he begins, voice quieter and yet still as rough, "I didn't know him very well. Now with that curse and everything, it's even worse. Or maybe I'm just forgetting in my old age, huh?" 

The man pauses to laugh, and Natori laughs along blandly, more impatient than ever now that the man has shown promise. He’s willing to wait it out, drawing out the information piece by piece until he has the full picture.

As the other exorcist quietens down so does the mood of the room, the two of them being the only occupants of this corner of the bar. 

"I think I remember him being really intimidating, which is what everyone else says too, so I guess that doesn't help you much.” The words are accompanied by a soft, hesitant chuckle, and Natori smiles at the man, urging him to continue.

“And…?”

“And… I don’t know, it's less of a memory and more of a feeling, but I think he kept to himself a lot. And he seemed... ah, what's the word?" He pauses, giving Natori ample time to think and scrawl down the descriptors he'd been offered, looking up to find the man's expectant gaze on him. Natori nods, signaling for him to continue.

"Severe. He seemed very severe. That's the general feeling I get, but..." He trails off, leaving Natori's pen poised and gaze waiting.

"Somehow, it also feels like I had maybe gotten a different vibe from him once or twice. Something... lighter."

Out of all the things he's read and heard, this has to be the most promising lead, catching Natori's attention the most. He scribbles down the words, underlining it for emphasis with heavy pen strokes.

"What makes you think that?" Natori asks, returning his attention to the exorcist. The other man frowns thoughtfully, shrugging.

"Well... I don't really know. It's just like a feeling. Whenever I think of  _ Matoba Seiji _ , the impression I get is severe and intimidating. Real clan head type figure, you know? But there's something under that that makes me think twice about it... a much brighter feeling.” The exorcist hesitates again, brow furrowing as he searches for the fleeting feeling, the brief impression.

“Like… serene.”

While the rest of what the man had said had left Natori writing hastily, intent of capturing the feeling that the man was trying to express, at the word  _ serene _ , his pen comes to a halt.

It's so clashing with every other account of Matoba he has heard and yet, in Natori's mind, he can almost see it. Despite never having met Matoba, despite only hearing about this side of Matoba just then, Natori could almost see the clan head's serene smile, not hostile or threatening.

Instead, at peace.

The exorcist looks at Natori like he's worried he's done something wrong, so Natori smiles at him, the expression a little more thrown than he would've liked. 

"Thank you very much, you've been a great help." He reassures almost, quickly scribbling down the word  _ serene _ and circling it. The mood of their corner relaxes again, and the other man picks up his cup of sake and drains the rest of the contents before standing up out of his seat.

"Well then, Natori, I wish you well with your research." He pauses, seeming a little embarrassed, then says "If you find anything relating to what I've told you... I wouldn't mind if you passed it onto me."

Natori nods, promising to inform him if anything came up with a smile and a shake of the hands. The exorcist leaves looking like he's gotten a weight off of his chest and Natori reflects wryly that it almost seems like the weight has been passed onto him.

Staring at his sake cup in front of him, still untouched, he asks himself "Why am I doing this?"

A valid question. He isn't sure what mere curiosity can warrant, which is what he had written off the nagging feeling in his head as. Matoba's case is interesting, true, but the offsetting feeling that he isn't even focusing on the case but on the person sets off alarms in his head, leaving him questioning why he’s so interested in the first place; especially concerning the new information he'd discovered today. He had been so quick to proclaim his hate for Matoba, one of the reasons why he’d looked into the case at all. 

He ignores the voice in his mind saying  _ maybe you wanted to prove yourself wrong _ and with a shake of his head, he reaches out for the cup and drinks it down in one go. The taste is bittersweet on his tongue as he stands up and walks out of the bar with payment left on the table, hands shoved in pockets and deep in thought.

He’s so absorbed in his thoughts that he almost doesn’t see the ayakashi standing in front of him when he walks out into the fading light of day, barely stopping his step in time to prevent a crash.

The ayakashi’s only notable trait is the one eye covered by a flowing fringe and Natori doesn’t know why but it seems familiar, making him instantly wary of the spirit. It doesn’t feel hostile but it refuses to budge when he tries to step forward, and he’s on the verge of summoning Sasago when a grating voice sounds out.

“You’re looking for information on Matoba Seiji?” The ayakashi asks, staring intensely at Natori with it’s one eye.

He nods.

“Let me tell you a secret, exorcist. But if only if you promise to do a favour for me first.” 

Natori is instantly wary, his danger instincts kicking in. He’s already running through possible scenarios and tricks that the ayakashi could pull and he’s about to reject the offer when it speaks again.

“Do not fear, exorcist. I have no love for your kind, but I mean you no harm. If you wish, I will give you the information now.”

The ayakashi pauses, looking to Natori for a signal, and he slowly nods in return.

“A large curse like Matoba’s cannot be done without balance, and when the humans lost their memories, the ayakashi’s sharpened. If you want information on Matoba Seiji, go to ayakashi.”

The ayakashi stares at Natori, who stares back, albeit with a lot less composure.

The information takes a while to set in, seeping through the cracks in his knowledge of Matoba's curse and filling in the gaps, providing a new perspective. 

He snaps out of his haze with a blink and realizes the ayakashi is still staring expectantly at him, almost like it was sizing him up.

With a cough and a slight smile, he asks "And the favour?"

* * *

The request was simple, seal a troublesome ayakashi who had started creating a fuss in the area the ayakashi had lived. Despite the basic task set, Natori had made several mistakes, the result of fatigue and impatience that had been given an entire day to build up.

By the time he completes the task, it’s completely dark, the half moon showing through slight cloud cover. With a tired sigh, he packs up the rest of the paper lying around the clearing, aware of the eyes watching him from beyond it.

He puts the papers in his bag and turns around, beckoning for Hiiragi to come out from the trees. She steps forward silently, expression unreadable underneath her mask.

"Master," she begins softly, "I do not think this endeavour has a point." 

Natori cocks his head, a silent question which Hiiragi accepts with a curt nod.

"Your investigation on Matoba Seiji. It seems very... pointless." 

Hiiragi has never been one to soften her tone or curb her tongue, a trait which Natori often admires, but in this case all it serves to do is pull his mouth down into a frown. 

"And why would that be?" He asks, barely keeping the stringency out of his voice. Hiiragi acknowledges his displeasure with an incline of her head and starts speaking again until she is interrupted.

"Urihime and I also agree, Master. It benefits you in no way and is taking time from your other duties." Sasago declares, materializing behind Natori. Urihime follows closely after, tongue held but eyes giving away her stance on the matter quite clearly.

His annoyance only grows with the appearance of the other two, tempered by wonder at why the issue was so pressing that all three of them should confront him.

Of course, as Hiiragi says “We think that it is advisable for you to stop,” irritation wins over and with a grimace he waves his hand at his shiki dismissively.

“Well  _ I _ think that I’m the master around here, and I can do as I please. If you are so concerned about my lack of participation in exorcist jobs then maybe you can get back to work yourselves and help me out.”

The words sound childish, they  _ are _ childish, and he knows it as soon as he says them. The knowledge makes swallowing down the indignation in his throat no easier. He grinds his heel into the ground and turns away.

Hiiragi concedes with a stiff bow, Sasago following her but with an added scowl. Urihime barely inclines her head, a burning present in her eyes that Natori can’t place.

He has no motivation to place it either, too drained by the events of the day to even think past his initial annoyance at his shiki's actions and question the motives behind them. With a snap of his fingers he dismisses the three, letting them fade into his dark surroundings, lit only by the moon and some street lights nearby. 

He walks out of the woods and onto the road, pulling his car keys out of his pocket as he heads towards the vehicle, intent on finally getting back to his apartment.

The drive back is long and uneventful and when Natori finally opens the door and is allowed to dump his bags and worries onto the floor, it's accompanied with the type of sincere sigh he rarely allows himself. 

It takes him a few moments to flick on the lights, he's content to just stand in his apartment and reflect briefly on his day, mentally winding down already. 

With a roll of his shoulders, he reaches for the light switch and illuminates the room, almost missing the starkly contrasting patch of white sitting on his couch as he scans it.

"Shi-" he starts, paper already flying out of his pockets as he recognizes the lucky cat figure, pinning it as Natsume's self proclaimed guardian ayakashi. With an irritated exhale (hadn't he had enough to deal with for one day?) he released his paper enchantments, letting them flutter to the ground.

"Have you never heard of breaking and entering?" He grumbles, slightly miffed at how off-guard the spirit had taken him and how smug it looked at the fact, curled up on Natori's couch and leisurely licking its paw.

It meows once as it licks, leaving Natori waiting and obviously enjoying watching him wait, until a low voice comes from the figure.

"I hear you're seeking information on Matoba Seiji." The cat almost  _ purrs _ , deceptively amiable, the tone setting Natori on edge immediately. He nods once, cautiously, watching as the cat stands up on its stubby legs and stretches out on his couch.

It's lucky that it's a statue and thus doesn't have fur, Natori thinks, because that couch had been expensive and he was in no mood to brush cat hair off of it for the next 3 weeks.

Finally, the cat seems to stop its dilly dallying, and pads over to Natori, sitting itself in front of him with a thump.

"Be careful." It says, and the words don't sound like the warning they should've been, instead more a mockery, a challenge.

Natori wants to ask  _ be careful of what? what do you know? _ , his newfound information about the curse sending alarm bells ringing in his head, but he manages to hold his tongue.

He knows about this ayakashi, how uncooperative it tends to be, and figures that he's not going to be able to get any information out of it apart from that.

It sits and watches him, tail slowly flicking through the air around it, until Natori presses a hand to his temple and says "Pass on a greeting to Natsume for me."

The cat nods, done with whatever it had come here to do, and pads out of the still open apartment door.

As he watches it go, Natori is thankful that this level of the building is mostly deserted, the  _ no pets or animals _ sign he passes everyday downstairs clear in his mind. As soon as it’s out of sight, he closes his door with a little too much force. He mumbles a comment about needing to check his wards and after giving the apartment a quick once over, collapses into bed, dinner forgotten in favour of satiating the exhaustion set into his bones.

He needs this day to be over, there being plenty of time to mull over everything that had happened tomorrow, and with one arm cast out onto the cold, unoccupied side of his double bed, he falls asleep.


	3. you cannot outrun a ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from no room in frame by death cab for cutie

He wakes up with a soft groan, eyes opening to the dark interior of his room. The first thing he notices is the sharp ache of hunger in his stomach, a consequence of last night's rash decisions and with a click of his tongue he rises out of the bed.

The blinking clock shows _5:48_ , an exceptionally early time to be up even by Natori’s early bird standards. He considers sleeping in more but the thought is discarded when Natori pushes apart his curtains and holds witness to one of the more breathtaking sunrises of his life.

Rubbing his eyes in a new light of the day, he yawns and makes up his mind. A cup of coffee and what should've been last night's dinner will suffice for a balcony breakfast, allowing him to continue watching the sun rise. A plan set out for the morning, he heads into the kitchen, steps heavy on the wooden floorboards.

Once his food is prepared he heads out into the balcony with tray in hand, immediately regretting his decision to just go barefoot and in his pyjamas when the morning chill sets in with a harsh breeze. He sets his food down shivering and goes back inside, grabbing a jacket he had found in his room a few nights ago and putting it on, providing some defense against the cold.

The jacket is simple and black, maybe a size too large for Natori. He can't remember where he got it from but when he had found it draped across a dining table chair, it had felt like it was supposed to be there, so he had kept it. He only wears it around the house, the style not really matching up with his own; he had often considered the chance of it being a misguided present from an admiring co-actor or director.

Nevertheless of where it had come from or how it looked on him, it serves its purpose, being well insulated and rather comforting. Natori can feel the cold being pushed back as he pulls it tighter around him while eating, eyes peeking through the steam of his coffee to gaze at the dawn.

A feeling of peace pervades him, tinged with something that feels too much like loneliness. The irony of the situation doesn’t escape him, he can easily recall several times he’s been made to act out scenes exactly like this one and until this point, he had always poked fun at them. He bites the sigh building up in his chest back, unwilling to give any more to the muted feelings surrounding him in the cold morning air.

As the sun rises over his small balcony, Natori starts planning out the day ahead of him. Now that he has had time to think about all he had learned yesterday, it’s clear in his mind what he needs to do, even if he’s a little unwilling.

He pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket, quickly reciting a well practiced incantation and releases it, watching it fly away with a slightly rueful smile.

“Sorry Natsume,” he says into the open air, “I didn’t mean to bother you so early.”

* * *

Before he hopefully encounters Natsume at the meeting spot he sent along with the paper (previous experiences with Natsume and his ayakashi guardian have told him that it’s generally hit or miss with the two), he decides to visit one of the more secluded places in the trail Matoba had left behind. He pushes open the gate to the graveyard, briefly checking the directions scrawled on the piece of paper he's holding in his hand, courtesy of the warden standing at the entrance.

Graveyards aren't ideal places for exorcists to be, the amount of ayakashi hanging around them setting Natori at a strong disadvantage and it takes a lot for him to ignore the thoughts nudging him in the opposite direction, asking _why are you here?_

Natori clears his throat in the still quiet and looks back down at the paper in his hand. _Walk down five rows and then turn left until you hit the grave_ the instructions say, so Natori focuses on the steps he's taking, each one leaving slight imprints in the worn path, the footprints seeming far out of place in the undisturbed area.

He doesn't belong here, is the realization Natori comes to with fidgeting hands and flickering eyes, the presence of something _strong_ threatening to overwhelm his resolve and send him walking back to comfort.

Steeling himself, he forces his feet to continue walking, taking the left turn with eyes scanning the graves for what he's looking for.

It's a far ways down, but he doesn't miss it when the words _Matoba Seiji_ come into view, printed in neat black characters on the grey block.

However, it's not the name that draws his eye to Matoba's grave. There isn't anything particularly interesting about the design either, the default rectangular design blending in effectively with the rest of the graves.

What Natori notices first, what makes Matoba's grave stand out so blatantly, is the near lack of embellishment on the grave.

Among the others, all fitted out with flowers and incense and water, Matoba's grave looks almost lonely, isolated and imposing. Standing proudly among the sea of headstones, the block raised a little higher to show Matoba's elevated status, it lacks colour or life, sending shivers down Natori's spine.

He can see traces of incense in the burner, from a while ago, maybe an admiring exorcist coming along to pay their respects. Maybe a visit from Nanase, who could barely recall Matoba.

Natori steps closer, coming to rest in front of Matoba's gravestone. He can suddenly understand what people mean when they say that nobody can really die if their memory lives on in other people.

It's a sad fate, to be forgotten.

He pulls out the candle, a small tealight and places it in the candle holder, looking around for a lighter while thinking _this isn't enough._

The sting of being alone, being ignored fills up his throat with bile as he looks at the grave, watches the thin flame flicker in the breeze of the day. It reminds him of something, not of the warmth it should provide but of nights filled with candlelight spent in his room, pouring over exorcist texts and whatever else he could get his hands on; his only possible liberation from the low lit hallways of his home. It reminds him of the acrid taste of being pushed away, left alone and abandoned.

With closed eyes, he wonders if they had even bothered to keep his room at his clan house anymore.

The candle blows out, the wind turning forceful against his face and so Natori follows it, walking out of the graveyard for a different reason than he had expected. He pulls out whatever money he has in his pocket, thumbing through it and deciding that it would do.

He arrives, breathing slightly harsher than usual at the vendor waiting by the graveyard and hands over the crumpled notes, choosing out a modest bouquet of flowers, three sticks of incense and another candle. The man selling nods and thanks him, Natori nods stiffly in return. He thinks he can see some kind of twinkle in the seller's eye but doesn't stick around long enough to question it, purposefully striding back into the graveyard to the surprise of the warden.

The white chrysanthemums feel light in his hands, too little of an offering to breach the distance Matoba's grave seems to give off but it's better than nothing. When he returns to the grave he's too lost in the sudden urgency of the moment to pick up the oppressive atmosphere from before, fueled by the adrenaline in his blood.

Gently, hesitantly, he places the flowers in the vase, sprinkling some of the star anise the vendor had supplied along with it inside as well. When the flowers are arranged to his liking, he moves onto the incense, lighting the three with clumsy movements, unused to the actions.

When the smoke starts curling through the air and the glowing ring around the incense starts to descend, he pushes them into the container, upright, the curling rings of smoke flying off in the breeze.

He refills the water, replaces his tealight with the candle he had bought and relights it, each action as careful as he can make them.

After he finishes adding the final touches, he steps back to survey the gravestone now, still a little empty compared to the others but better, infinitely better.

He bows once, twice then puts his hands in his pockets and watches the incense burn, the smell subtle in the air but enough to make his nose crinkle slightly. The incense continues to burn, the wind continues to blow and Natori stands there, unmoving apart from the occasional blink, unsure of what he’s doing.

He stands there until the incense is almost burnt out, an unreasonably long time even in the face of his resolute determination to not question his motivations too much. With a slow swallow, he steps back into the aisle, eyes still on the wisps of incense coming from Matoba’s grave. He moves forward, occasionally glancing backwards until he can’t see the smoulder anymore. When he gets to that point, he makes the rest of his way out of the graveyard quickly, the sense of ill belonging staved off but not eliminated, until he’s standing outside the gate, resisting the urge to look back.

He checks the watch on his wrist, noting that it’s almost time to meet Natsume, and sets off again.

* * *

He arrives on the scene with 4 minutes to spare to the sight of Natsume, vaguely irritated, vaguely fond, watching his cat play with the orange leaves falling from the trees. As soon as Natori steps into view, the cat stops and Natsume’s attention is focused onto Natori, gaze as intense as ever.

“You know, there are easier ways to contact me.” He says with a sigh, sounding less annoyed than he should be and bringing a smile to Natori’s face. Natori nods, acknowledging the comment and shrugs.

“Where would the fun in that be?” Natori responds, a little too bright and a little too forced, too aware of the cat’s gaze on him. Out of the corner of his eye, Natori can see it with squinted seemingly measuring him up, reminding Natori uncomfortably of the night before.

It holds this look for a while, before shaking its head and padding towards Natsume, growling “Can’t you just let me eat him?”

“Sensei! No!” Natsume replies, indignant and protesting, his earnest tone bringing something that feels like fondness to Natori’s gaze. Natsume scolds the ayakashi a few more times, Natori waiting and struggling to keep the too-sincere smile off of his face, until Natsume turns back to him, flustered and pink in the cheeks.

"Sorry, Natori," the boy apologizes, "what did you call me here for?"

Natori hesitates, thinking out the words he should use, finally carefully intonating "Natsume, if you could do me a favour."

Natsume tilts his head slightly, a little wary yet curious, and says "What kind of favour?"

"It's not anything exorcist related, don't worry." Natori reassures, and it's evident that that had been what Natsume had been worrying about from the way his face relaxes, the boy nodding for Natori to continue.

"I was wondering if you could ask some of your ayakashi... friends if they had any information on Matoba Seiji they could tell me."

Usually, Natori would be more subtle than that, taking more time with nudging Natsume in the right direction, but there's something about the request that tells him it's better to just say it straight out.

He isn’t sure whether it proves true at first, Natsume seeming more confused than outright rejecting it, but it takes him a while to respond, and when he does, it’s not encouraging.

“Matoba Seiji? The exorcist?”

Natori nods, explanation at the ready.

“Yes. I found his case quite interesting and so I’m looking into him. I was just wondering if any of the ayakashi had any memories of him they could share with me.” He explains, voice as smooth and assuring as he could make it.

Natsume nods again, still a little unsure but more ready to accept the idea.

"Didn't everybody forget about him though?" Natsume asks, and Natori nods in return.

"Yes, but I have a hunch, and I want to see if it's true or not. You can help, right? You don't have to force them into it."

Natori is well aware of the cat's gaze on him again, eyes narrowed and looking rather, _smug_ , as if it knows something Natori doesn't.

He thinks about it, and decides that it probably does. Natsume doesn't catch his guardian's scrutiny of Natori however, and so after some more deliberation, he shrugs and accepts.

"Sure, I guess. How would you like to do it?" He says with a quiet smile, leaving Natori marvelling at how readily he accepted Natori's, admittedly, odd request.

Natori explains to Natsume quickly after that, how he wants to meet the ayakashi along with Natsume, if that's ok, how he wants them to tell him about Matoba, anything they could remember.

Natsume takes it all in seriously and Natori appreciates it, the feeling of having somebody support him in his pursuit of Matoba's memory. When he finishes and they come to an agreement, with little input from Natsume's guardian, Natsume is the first to leave, realizing the time and near-running away with a shouted apology.

The cat stays behind.

Natori prepares himself for another cryptic conversation and is left hanging when it never comes, the cat instead choosing to stare at him for a long time.

He stares back, unsure if he should walk away or not, unsure if he should say anything.

"Didn't I tell you to be careful?"

Natori barely recognizes the voice at first, the near growl of the words portraying way too much hostility for the calm expression on the cat's face. He's already got a retort on his tongue when it finally shows some emotion, a look crossing its face that Natori can only describe as _pity_.

It fills him with something red and harsh, the sight of this ayakashi judging him for something he doesn't even know that he did and he's so ready to lash out when it turns around with a huff, jumping down from the fence it had been sitting on.

Natori is alone, lurching from the intense emotion, left without anywhere to go.

He stands, breathing hard and hands clenched until a falling leaf falls in front of his face, just brushing his cheek. He reaches up a hand to catch it, the other coming up to touch lightly at the place the leaf touched.

He feels off balance, head spinning almost like the leaf twirling in the wind and he stumbles slightly, coming to rest against the fence with short breaths.


	4. just like a distant star i simply cannot hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from winter song by sara bareilles and IM SORRY THIS IS SO LATE NEA

Natori checks the time on his watch, the second hand ticking towards the meeting time and he taps his foot along with it, no lack of impatience in the gesture. He’s waiting on the edge of Yatsuhara forest, he and Natsume agreeing a few days earlier that it would be the place the ayakashi were most comfortable with.

The place looks deserted now however, the lack of activity almost unnerving. Natori worries that rumour of an exorcist being around the area had gotten out, that he put too much faith in Natsume's relationship with the ayakashi of the area, until the boy runs up to him, face red and panting.

"Hey Natori! Sorry, the ayakashi are a little further in the forest, if that's ok with you. They're having a picnic." The boy explains with rushed words.

Natori nods and smiles, his worries vanished as he tells Natsume to lead the way. The boy keeps up a friendly chatter as they walk, Natori easily sensing that he's trying to find a way to breach the topic at hand and he's ready to tell Natsume that he can ask whatever he wants when they enter a clearing.

Natori is grateful for his years of acting experience as he successfully keeps the surprise that courses through him to a simple raise of his eyebrows.

It has to be one of the largest ayakashi gatherings he's ever seen, picnic blankets littered around the clearing, all crowded with ayakashi. They're talking away quite happily, the crowd perking up even more at the sight of Natsume, who gives that soft smile of his as he greets them.

Natori almost feels bad for doubting Natsume. The boy turns to Natori and gently pushes him forward a little, putting him into the spotlight as all of the ayakashi eyes turn to him. The atmosphere, warm and peaceful just moments before, turns cold.

Natori hesitates, unsure of what to do as he’s pinned and placed, the word _exorcist_ floating around the gathering. Natsume shuffles forward to stand beside Natori, casting him a quick sidelong glance.

“Hello guys! Thank you all for coming out here today. This is my friend,” and it’s easy to pick up the way Natsume stresses _friend_ , “Natori.”

The harsh atmosphere lessens as Natsume talks but barely, the practiced hostility towards any exorcists winning out against the boy’s attempts. There’s still suspicion hanging in the air and Natori is ready to cut his losses, accept a bad move when he sees it and leave.

Beside him, Natsume takes in a breath, drawing himself up to his full height and with a smile the boy says “He asked me for a favour, and I was wondering if you guys could help out. He wants to know about Matoba Seiji.”

Natori holds his breath as more murmurs of _exorcists_ fill the air, waiting up until the breaking point, where an ayakashi stands up. It moves towards him with narrowed eyes and bared fangs, the suspicion and judgement emanating from it easy to understand.

Natsume pales slightly, Natori letting out the air in his lungs through clenched teeth as the ayakashi regards him.

Then, it crosses its arms, sighing.

“Typical Natsume. He can’t turn down anybody.”

Just like that, the tension breaks.

As the ayakashi returns to its seat, the rest of the crowd slowly call out their assent, coming back to life. “Really!” Huffed a small bird, perched on the shoulder of a larger ayakashi. “Natsume is just too nice!”

“He’s always helping everyone…”

“Just like Natsume indeed, to offer help to an exorcist.”

“Well, it’s not like it’ll do any harm…”

Within seconds of clamour and back and forth, the ayakashi had decided that they couldn’t refuse Natsume, too good for his own good and so they would indeed help Natori. Natori’s mouth opens slightly as he casts an almost alarmed look at Natsume, who can’t help but break into quiet laughter.

Despite his attempts at concealing it, Natori is shocked, the exchange happening too quickly for him and his frazzled nerves to keep up, and it’s only when a four eyed ayakashi appears before him, hovering slightly in its crossed legged position, that Natori remembers what he came here for.

It stares him down with two sets of eyes, sending a slight shiver up Natori’s spine. He waits wordlessly, expecting it to start talking, to tell him a recount of its encounter with Matoba, but instead this ayakashi simply motions for Natori to move closer. When he's within reach of it, it raises a hand, telling him to stop. He raises his notepad, pen waiting at the surface.

The ayakashi looks two eyes down at the notepad (and two eyes still looking at him, only amplifying Natori’s discomfort) and smiles dryly.

“You will not be needing that, exorcist. Please, if you would close your eyes.”

Natori trusts that none of the ayakashi will do anything too bad to him while Natsume is watching, so he closes his eyes and feels the ayakashi tap his forehead, a warmth spreading from the contact to envelop his whole body.

And then, he isn't him anymore.

* * *

_I step into the clearing, run into the clearing, trying to escape whoever is after me. My brother is beside me, breathing harshly and I can tell that he’s far weaker than I. The sense of dread hangs heavy over us as I try not to count the moments til my death, death at the hands of-_

_Matoba Seiji catches up, far too quickly, and steps into the clearing with his bow raised._

_We could try to run. Matoba is pausing to line up his bow and in those seconds I head for the edge of the clearing, expecting Chiko to follow._

_It takes me too long to realize that he isn’t following, the tatters of the seal I had broken him out of a few minutes ago still clinging to him as he rises up to his full form. He swells, bringing all of the power he can have to the surface, turning the air electric._

_I figure out what he’s about to do as he shouts “_ Run, Chou!” _and as I turn back and lunge for him, it’s too late._

_Chiko shoots forward, powers amplified around him as he aims for Matoba and I see Matoba raise his bow and hope, hope with all my might that Chiko can dodge it._

_Matoba doesn’t bring his bow up to full height, nor does he draw the arrow back in the bow. It’s held loosely in his arms as he watches Chiko cover the last few metres, and then-_

_There’s a burst of paper from behind Matoba, forming shields and chains that deflect Chiko and then wrap around him and all I can think is_ he’s got backup _and_ he’s got Chiko _._

_Chiko yells something again as I turn and run, looking back one last time to see Matoba’s impassive face watching me go, before he turns away himself to greet the figure coming out from the woods behind him._

_I keep running._

* * *

Natori blinks his eyes open, surfaces from the vision like coming out of deep water to mutters of _no flair at all, what a show off_ and _we didn’t even get to hear the story_. He staggers backwards, caught by a concerned Natsume, who quietly asks what the ayakashi did to him.

He looks at the ayakashi, whose four eyes are all closed, its mouth drawn into a tight line and feels his mouth go dry. He bites back the _sorry_ sitting in his mouth, all too aware of the blood staining his own hands.

Natori shakes his head to clear his thoughts, taking a deep breath before standing up straight again and turning to Natsume. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the ayakashi fade back into the crowd, eyes still closed.

“It’s ok, Natsume. It was just a vision, and I’m a little disorientated is all.” He says with a wave of his hand, voice still a little rough around the edges. His notepad lies dropped on the grass nearby, and it takes him a while to concentrate enough to pick it up and write down everything he can.

He isn’t sure whether he’s so taken off guard by the vision or by what he had seen in it, the fuzziness at the edge of his vision helping none with sorting through his thoughts.

When he finishes writing, a second ayakashi approaches him, hair swept down in its face.

“If you please.” It says in a soft, ringing voice, and, swallowing hard, Natori closes his eyes.

* * *

_I lie on the branch of the tree. basking in the summer sun filtering through the leaves. The road beside me is quiet today, none of the usual hustle and bustle to be found in this early Sunday morning. It’s peaceful._

_Of course, as soon as I say this, I hear approaching footsteps. Probably some humans, out for an early morning stroll. Maybe even a couple!_

_I wonder idly, twirling a leaf in my fingers, if I could mess with them a little. It’d been awhile since I had some fun, after all!_

_I sit up straight on the branch, peeking through the leaf cover to try and catch sight of the passing people._

_“You can’t just come to my apartment whenever you’re fed up with dealing with your clan, you know.” A voice rings out, as warm as the morning is. I shuffle slightly in my seat, the people still out of my sight._

_“As if you don’t show up at my doorstep every time you’re too injured to return to the city inconspicuously.” A second voice responds, the fondness in the tone evident._ Sound perfect for messing with _, I think,_  the unsuspecting humans. _I grin and rub my hands together with glee._

_They continue to talk, moving closer until I finally catch a glimpse._

_I almost fall back off of the branch when the easy recognizable robes of an exorcist come into view, barely muffling the yelp of surprise I let out. I turn away, scrambling to stand behind the tree and away from the roadside. I manage to catch a few more glimpses in that time, the telltale black hair and the seal situated over the eye telling me enough._

_I don’t stick around to find out who the other person is, already taking off away from the road, thinking up a story of the encounter to tell my friends about later._

* * *

Natori jolts out of the vision, his breath catching in his throat. The ayakashi gives him a questioning look, confused by his shaking hands and harsh breaths. He gives himself a few minutes to stop his head from spinning, just aware of the concerned looks Natsume is sending him.

He tries to process what he had just seen, his heart beating faster than he thinks it should and his breath coming shorter. The memory had been so _warm_ , he could still hear Matoba’s soft tone and the gentle lilt of his companion, still see the sun tracing patterns on the tree’s bark.

When an ayakashi taps him on the shoulder it takes him a moment to register it, and he does so with a flustered smile. It looks like a bird type ayakashi, and in a crowing voice it asks "Mr Exorcist, can I show you a vision?"

Natori wants to refuse, the sharing of memories in this way being a far more draining process than he’d initially expected. He’s not sure if he can take another one but he nods again, forcing a smile. He leans his forehead forward as a show of faith, and the ayakashi taps it lightly.

The feeling of warmth spreads through him again, and then he's falling.

* * *

_I suck in a shaky breath._

_It hurts. It hurts a lot. My wing, or what’s left of it, drags along the ground as I limp along, trying to find somewhere I can rest for the night. I see nothing but the empty road and the setting sun, beside me woods full of probably hostile ayakashi. My best bet is a ditch or something on the side of the road, but even with my keen eyes I cannot see one._

_I accept myself to the ugly fate I've been given, death after having my wing half eaten off, and stop at the side of the road. I'd either be stepped on or eaten, and I'm not sure which one would be worse. I don't think it really matters._

_I’m ready to give up, maybe I’ve already given up, when I hear footsteps. I stiffen, every part of me screaming to run away except for the once voice telling me that this is inevitable, there’s nothing I can do. If I’m lucky and it’s a human, they’ll have some basic affinity and I’ll be crushed underfoot. If I’m unlucky and it’s another ayakashi, I could be here for a while._

_What I get instead is a bit of both, the worst parts of both, arguably._

_I get an exorcist,_ the _exorcist, soon-to-be-head of the Matoba clan, renowned for exterminating ayakashi in the blink of an eye exorcist, Matoba Seiji. It’s easy to tell it’s him, legends of the long dark hair and his powers spread far and quick. Every ayakashi knows to avoid him._

_When a hand reaches out to cup underneath me, lifting my body off of the ground, I breathe out, letting out one last cry, and prepare to be sealed, or banished._

_I don’t get that. I don’t even get a bit of both._

_I get gentle hands, gently rolling me around so that I’m on my back, my bad wing supported by his other hand. I look up at him through beady eyes, watching as he smiles absently down at me._

_He pulls out a piece of paper, one that smells different from the rest of the things he carries, and wraps it around the tear in my wing, binding it together. I feel the paper tighten as he binds, realizing dimly that it must be an exorcist tool, one used for healing. That’s probably why it feels different._

_He watches as the paper settles onto my wing, the power imbued in it already acting as the faintness I feel fades._

_He walks up the road a little, looking for something with a softer expression than I’d ever seen on a human, and when he spotted whatever it had been, his face fills with something I’d only seen from my mother._

_Gladness._

_With tender movements, he places me down into the hollow of a tree on the roadside, looking down at me to make sure I’m ok. He takes a second to smile down at me again, making his face look younger, or perhaps his own age. I wonder how old he is, how much he’s grown up._

_I don’t know when humans start fledging, but it doesn’t seem to me that Matoba should have his wings yet._

* * *

The move out from the vision is softer this time, more like waking up instead of braking hard, and it only takes Natori a minute or so to acclimatize to being himself again. This means, however, it takes him less time to register the faintness he feels, his vision worn around the edges and his movements slower. The dizziness had gone but it’s replaced by fatigue, a weariness overtaking him as he wobbles slightly on his feet.

Taking a seat, he breathes in deeply, trying to steel himself with clenched fists. Absentmindedly, he reaches for his notepad but instead of his fingers brushing against paper, they brush against the sleeve of an ayakashi. It’s the snake ayakashi with the fangs and the slit eyes, eyes that are trained on the notepad in its hand. Natori makes a noise of protest and tries to grab for the notepad but the ayakashi is faster, more alert and dodges out of his way easily.

After a few more failed attempts, Natori accepts that he’s not getting the notepad back until the ayakashi is done with it, and sits back with a long exhale.

The ayakashi, after a while of reading, turns to him with a curious expression. Natori hopes that this means it’s ready to give his notepad back, but instead it hisses slowly “Serene?”

Natori remembers the word as one that he wrote down when he had been interviewing the exorcist, and nods. The ayakashi continues looking at him, like it’s searching for something in his expression. It doesn’t seem to find what it’s looking for and it turns away, leaving Natori shrugging.

“Serene is a good word for it.” It says, sounding thoughtful. This catches Natori’s attention as he begins watching the ayakashi thumb through the rest of the pages with an slight gleam in its eye.

“Did you know Matoba? Can you tell me anything about him?” Natori asks urgently, leaning forward despite the ache in his limbs. His unsteady movements earn a pointed look from the ayakashi as it tosses the notepad back to him.

“At the very least,” it says, “you can eat something before you pass out.”

Natori can’t argue against that or the faintness he keeps trying to ignore, and so he moves over to the picnic blanket where Natsume is sitting, having an animated conversation with a kappa ayakashi.

Natsume greets him with a small wave while the ayakashi stares at him with wide eyes, its hands trembling. Natori musters up the best smile he can produce as he sits down, causing its eyes to grow wider.

“Uh! Would you like a rice ball?” It squeaks as it scrambles to grab the tray of rice balls on the ground, thrusting it towards Natori. He takes one delicately, resting it between his fingers as he takes a small bite. It tastes good, better than the stuff he’d been throwing together for himself after long days out, and it only accentuates the hunger in his stomach.

With the sun shining down on the forest, he takes another bite and starts weaving together the threads of Matoba Seiji he had collected so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me while writing this: how can i make this any more obvious natori Pull It Together


	5. i'll come back to haunt you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...... genuinely feel like no apology will make up for how ridiculously belated this update is but i also genuinely feel the need to apologize anyway so  
>  [gets down on my hands and knees] IM SORRY  
> this will definitely get finished before the end of this year because i am FINALLY GRADUATED FROM HIGHSCHOOL!!!!!!!!! YEAH!!!!!!!! i have so much time to waste and i promise it will all go into finally getting this done!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> this ch is unbeta'd bc its 12:30 am and i have no limits, ch title is from haunt by bastille

Wildly conflicting, Natori muses over a cup of tea, doesn’t begin to describe the recounts of Matoba Seiji he has seen. For most of his investigation, the idea of Matoba Seiji, the ruthless head of a ruthless clan had lodged in his head, fitting perfectly, matching up with everything he’d heard. He had seen the persona in the rare pictures and footage of Matoba - for such a high profile figure, recordings of Matoba are as elusive as his memory is.

And, if the first memory had been the only one presented to him, he would’ve only believed it more. He can’t tell whether it’s the ayakashi’s emotions in the memory swaying him or his actual feelings, but the way his blood runs cold at the thought of Matoba, bow in hand, solidifies that he had a cruel streak, at least.

But every story has two sides, and Matoba’s no exception.

His fingers tap idly on the cup’s side, drumming along to the rhythm of the ayakashi playing music nearby. The sun is lower, casting warm orange rays onto the scene, turning the trees and figures soft in the hazy light.

Soft. It’s not a word Natori would have expected to pair with Matoba Seiji’s name, but very little about the man had adhered to expectations so far. Taking early morning walks with somebody obviously close to him. Healing injured and weak ayakashi he finds on the side of the road.

It almost feels like the more information he gets on Matoba, the further finding the truth seems to be. The further he seems to drift. Natori’s grasp on this memory slips out of his hands again and again, and he wonders why he feels the loss so strongly.

“Natori, are you okay?” Natsume’s voice breaks Natori’s train of thought, and when his head clears, his gaze lands on Natsume’s worried expression As soon as Natori’s eyes focus, Natsume jerks his head back slightly, face turning apologetic.

“Sorry! I just... thought you looked a little sad.” Eyes downcast, his apology is insistent while the rest of his words trail off, and something turns sour at the back of Natori’s throat.

“It’s okay, Natsume,” he murmurs with a smile, reaching out to pat the boy’s head. “I was just thinking. Thank you for the concern.”

Natsume nods under his touch, a hesitant smile on his face. Natori returns it and ruffles his hair slightly, in what he hopes is a reassuring matter. Natsume’s smile grows brighter, and Natori’s gaze grows softer. Natsume returns to the doting ayakashi around him and Natori returns to being alone with his thoughts and his weariness. Not something he is unused to, but something he can’t help but resent nonetheless.

It gives him a lot of time to watch people, being alone. He’s always been rather bad at it, observing other people, reading other people. He’s a little too headstrong and a little too self-absorbed to fully get a grasp on other people, a downfall which he regrets strongly.

Regardless of his inexperience in the field, watching Natsume and the other ayakashi interact, he begins to understand why Natsume is so protective of them. Natsume has a heart of gold and a spirit of steel and it is with these qualities that he can face the many ayakashi in his life; in some cases, even befriend them. Natori’s opinion of ayakashi hadn’t always been this sour, and he thinks if he tries, it could return to where it once had been.

Perhaps the warm sunlight and the friendly atmosphere are making him sentimental. That isn’t a fancy that exorcists should be entertaining. Then again, he realizes that this entire Matoba ordeal is a fancy that Natori shouldn’t be entertaining, but that isn’t stopping him. He wonders, not for the first time, why it isn’t stopping him. He considers himself a rational person, but the pull he feels from the tale of Matoba and this god is entirely irrational and entirely irresistible.

He exhales, the steam from his cup of tea blowing away into the clear sky. The snake ayakashi besides him looks over, gaze narrowed—or maybe that was just the slit shape of its eyes. He can’t tell whether it’s hostile or not, but it seems amicable enough when it asks “Feeling better?”

Natori breathes in again, assessing the weariness that food and rest had been slowly staving off and nods.

The ayakashi eyes him appraisingly but eventually concedes, saying “Alright. Not that I care, but you should probably stop after this.”

Natori tilts his head at that, the question clear on his face and if there’s a hint of amusement there as well; well, it’s not his fault he’s naturally humorous. The snake ayakashi is definitely glaring at Natori this time, scowling as it jerks its head at Natsume and hisses “He would be upset if you suddenly passed out.”

The affection these ayakashi hold for Natsume never fails to surprise Natori. He really is one of a kind, that boy.

The ayakashi clears its throat, shuffling closer to Natori as it reaches out a hand to tap him on the forehead, then Natori is falling once more.

* * *

 

_Everything is dark. I’m not exactly sure why. My memories are fuzzy—I think I remember being sealed? Ugh, my head hurts. This sucks._

_Then, light breaks through and I feel my powers rush back to me. This is it! My chance to get away from this foolish exorcist! Must be a rookie or something, letting me go soon after I got sealed instead of letting my powers fade day by day. I snap the bindings remaining, fangs bared already and eyes peeled for the poor exorcist who decided it was a good idea to cross me today._

_I come face to face with two pairs of eyes, or really, one and a half, staring at me appraisingly. Oh, fuck._

_Matoba,_ the actual Matoba, _in the flesh, stares me down. It’s terrifying. I become very certain that I am about to die soon._

_“It seems rather weak. Perhaps we are better off killing it.” The other person, some severe looking old woman, speaks. I forget myself, hissing in her direction with teeth bared. Matoba shifts, out of the corner of my eye, bringing his bow around to the front._

_“That is unwise.” He says and I realize he’s talking to me. I give the lady one last glare before dropping my gaze. The bow is a formidable negotiation tactic. Matoba actually chuckles, the sound mirthless and sinister._

_“It has spirit,” he says and I am back to being ignored, talked about as if I’m not here, “I will see what I can do with it.”_

_The woman seems to roll her eyes but does not protest further, leaving the room wordlessly. Matoba watches her go, but I can tell that he is still paying mind to me, one eye on the door and one on me as I survey my surroundings._

_When his full attention returns to me, he is smirking. It’s a bit irritating, but my fear of an arrow to the head outweighs any annoyance at how arrogant this exorcist is, and I stay where I am despite how much I want to rip his other eye out. This is the man who has laid waste to many good ayakashi, an enemy to us all._

_“So, how about it? Becoming my servant?” He says, full of confidence as if he already knows what the answer is going to be._

_I spit at him._

_“No.” I hiss. Matoba doesn’t seem discouraged at my rejection, his smirk growing even more uncanny, to my horror._

_“It’s either that or die. The choice seems rather obvious, to me.”_

_I consider my options. Die, or live a life as Matoba’s servant, at his beck and call whenever he wants to wreak havoc upon some innocent, unsuspecting ayakashi. Gee, the man drives a hard bargain. I am an ayakashi of honour, and I would not trade my life for the many other lives of my kind that Matoba takes._

_“Still no,” I spit, satisfaction rising at the dark look that crosses Matoba’s face. It clears quickly but I see it, all the same, understand that Matoba is perhaps not used to not getting his way, and his smug demeanour does not seem as threatening the next time around._

_“My, my, you are spirited.” He says like he’s a mother sighing over her children, patronizing and light and I bristle at the words, wanting him to just get it over with already. “It almost seems like a shame, to kill you. Or am I just getting soft?”_

_At this point, I have no idea what he was going on about. There is an expression that is almost… fond, on his face, like he is having a conversation with somebody not present in the room at all. It is incredibly disconcerting, but I remember that for all his intimidation, Matoba is still human. He has weaknesses. It is perhaps a point to pursue if I get out of this alive. Which I probably will not._

_Matoba seems to be done with his musing, as his bow is returning to its place on his shoulders and his hands are moving to shape some kind of spell. Probably some evil exorcist curse to send insolent ayakashi to their deaths in the most gruesome way possible. I anticipate the excruciating pain, the overwhelming agony, but instead what I get is paper whirling its way around me. Tightening, not to the point of pain, but I can clearly tell I’m being restrained._

_I try to send out a flare of power, but the paper swallows it completely. I’m defenceless and unable to move, and I realize that Matoba is probably going to use me as target practice or something._

_Instead, he motions his hand and instructs the shiki that appears—the poor bastard—to place me back into the forest._

_“The paper should dissolve in about six hours,” Matoba informs me cheerfully as the shiki picks me up, throwing me over its shoulder carelessly. “I do hope nothing eats you before you can get free; it would be a shame for me to spare you for no reason.”_

_I can’t tell if he’s being sincere or not, his tone unnerving in its brightness. Still very, very threatening._

_I am transported out of his sight and out of the house, all the while wondering if this is some elaborate prank he’s playing and that as soon as I break free, he’s going to jump out with his bow and go_ Hah! You thought!

_I am placed in the forest, and true to his word, my bindings come loose a while later. It is the strangest encounter of my life, by far._

* * *

 

When Natori emerges from that memory, his head is spinning so hard that he ends up toppling onto his side, breaths coming harshly. His vision is swimming and his hearing fuzzy, but he can still hear and see Natsume’s concern as the boy leans over him, panicking.

The memory sharing had been much more taxing than Natori had expected, and it takes him a while to regain his bearings and sit up. Natsume is still hovering, clearly worried and Natori thinks he can see some guilt as well, misplaced but well-meaning.

He takes a deep breath, making sure that his voice won’t fail him when he tries to speak and says “I’m okay.” It’s weaker than he would like. The fear in Natsume’s eyes abates somewhat, and Natori takes it as a good sign.

“You should stop there,” Natsume says, in a tone that communicates that he is of the belief Natori _has_ to stop there, rather than any _should_ s. Natori agrees with this sentiment, no matter how much his heart aches with the curiosity, each vision of Matoba casting the figure into more light; or more shadow. He is definitely at his limit, and the chills of the evening are beginning to set in. He nods in agreement, and Natsume seems to be satisfied with this response, even if he doesn’t back out of Natori’s space any more.

There is some minor commotion beside him. He turns to his left and sees Urihime glaring at the snake ayakashi, who is glaring back with just as much venom.

“I told you, I didn’t do anything to him.” It hisses. Urihime’s expression darkens.

Natori places a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back from the other ayakashi slightly. “Enough.” He says, making it clear that there is no room for negotiation. Urihime is clearly not happy with this, but she nods stiffly and stalks back over to where Hiiragi and Sasago are standing. Their gazes are hard as well, even if their expressions betray less raw emotion, and Natori considers that maybe, he too has built up loyalties similar to Natsume and his ayakashi posse, all without realizing. It is not a disturbing thought, not yet, since they are in his servitude, but it is something to ponder over.

The shadows are longer now and Natori can’t quite discern whether the darkness flickering in his periphery is stray ayakashi dancing or the wind rustling the branches of the trees. Natori thinks that his time in this clearing, intruding on Natsume’s world, has come to an end.

With shaky legs, he stands up, notepad clutched in his hands and concerned gazes following him from Natsume and several ayakashi gathered.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Natsume asks, the genuine kindness in his tone almost too much to bear. Natori pulls it together; he doesn’t want to worry Natsume, and throws on his best actor smile.

“Of course, Natsume. You don’t have to worry! Trust your elders.” He finishes on a wink and Natsume catches himself before he rolls his eyes but Natori doesn’t miss it, the cute exasperation on the boy’s face. It causes something warm to start in his chest, the easy familiarity he has with Natsume. There aren’t many people who he can get along with well in the first place, and even less in the pool of people who know about the supernatural world. He wouldn’t call himself lonely (though he admits, there is a sense that he’s missing something in his life, but he can’t pin what) but it is nice to know that he has something _—_ he might call it friendship _—_ with Natsume.

He bids Natsume goodbye with a smile perhaps more genuine than he would like, turning and doing the same for the gathered ayakashi. Walking back to where his shiki are gathered, he can see the path that he had taken earlier to get to the clearing in the forest. The three ayakashi fall into step around him as he walks, giving Natori the feeling that he’s being protected, or monitored, though he’s at a loss for what could’ve triggered this reaction in his shiki. None of them seem very willing to talk; Sasago’s expression is downright stormy. That’s fine; when he’s alone, Natori isn’t one for many words either, and he’s too tired to question the behaviour of his shiki right then.

He gets to a road, calls a taxi, and sinks gratefully into the plush seats as his shiki fade from sight. He’s not alone, he can still sense them hovering, but the moment of reprieve from their scrutiny is sorely needed. He recalls that none of them wanted him to pursue this line of investigation, and he does feel bad for completely ignoring their words, but there is an allure he can’t verbalize from this man-turned-legend. Besides, he’s far too deep in it now. He can’t walk away.

The monotonous streets flying by serve to calm his nerves. Now that his head is clear, he is able to think over the contents of the memory with more clarity. There is something that bothers him about this one, an out of place detail that only makes itself clear to him when he sees the paper of his notepad fluttering in the breeze of the open window.

Ah. He sees it now, Matoba performing a seal that Natori himself has done many, many times, the movements familiar but altogether other coming from Matoba’s pale, slender hands. He can easily follow along every word that Matoba had spoken, even when it had been inaudible to the ayakashi. It is clear that Matoba had been practised in the spell, the _paper_ -based spell. The spell that, as far as Natori knows, hadn’t graced the knowledge of people outside the Natori clan—and since Natori is the only active exorcist in a long time, it’s easier to say it hadn’t graced the knowledge of anybody outside of him.

He is left rather shocked at this discovery. His distress must show on his face, in his gaping mouth, his wide eyes, his furrowed brow, because the taxi driver looks in the mirror and asks “Are you okay, sir?”

Natori has the presence of mind to reply “Yes, of course,” in return, but he can’t muster one of his award-winning smiles or his honeyed tone, still reeling from the fact that _Matoba Seiji_ had known, and was practised in, one of the Natori clan’s most powerful seals.

Had he stolen Natori clan texts? Surely not, since their warehouses are so guarded to the point it’s difficult for Natori himself to get in them and Natori very strongly doubts that any of his family, if they even took any interest in exorcist business, had given Matoba the spell. Natori is most sure, out of all the possibilities, that _he_ hadn’t given Matoba the spell; he had never met Matoba, and on the off chance that they had crossed paths at some exorcist meeting, he has little love for the Matoba clan and little reason to hand his enemies weapons to use against him.

Not for the first time, Natori feels like he’s missing something, like he’s making shots in the dark when it used to be illuminated. There is a piece to this puzzle, just out of his grasp, small details that would all align if he could just put them together except Natori has never been good at looking at the bigger picture, always getting caught up in the small details and becoming unable to see past their confining frames. Frustration builds in him because he still can’t understand, can’t place why he is so interested in Matoba, can’t place Matoba himself, can’t place the underlying mystery that is _just within_ his grasp.

The car comes to a stop in front of his apartment. Natori barely pays attention as the driver recites the price, paying it without a second thought and leaving behind more change than probably wise. The walk up to his apartment building, into the elevator and through the door is conducted in a haze as Natori runs through everything he’s found so far, settling into old routines of dedication and repetition he had almost forgotten.

Natori had built himself up into an exorcist, chipping away at the vast world of seals and spells and incantations until he had mastered it completely, and it is with this steely determination he attacks the mystery of Matoba Seiji.

He doesn’t realize his shiki have assembled in his apartment, too lost in thoughts, until there is a soft “Excuse me, master,” from Hiiragi.

He looks up, frowning in confusion at the three ayakashi standing in his living room.

Hiiragi inclines her head, seeming like she’s going to speak again. She hesitates, however, turning to her companions standing beside her. Sasago is scowling, but she seems to give an affirmative to whatever question Hiiragi had, with Urihime doing the same.

Hiiragi turns back to Natori, and her next words are level and clearly delivered, as they always are.

“Are you feeling alright?” She asks, although Natori gathers that it’s not out of mere concern for his wellbeing. He nods. She seems to take a moment to gather herself, a hesitation that he rarely sees in her evident in the way she holds herself. “We have a memory we would like to share with you." She begins, uncharacteristically uncertain. "It is… relevant to your search.”

The pieces start to slide into place. Natori, unable to find anything to say, simply nods.

Hiiragi ghosts forward, her touch on his forehead gentle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THNX FOR READING IM SORRY AGAIN ALSO SORRY FOR CLIFFHANGER?!?!?! YIKES. alternate title is how many unsubtle references to canon can i make before midorikawa yuki physically manifests in my home and knocks me out


	6. you cease, desist, and leave me like this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow... i have so much time to write now lol :') enjoy!??!?!?! uh im notoriously bad at writing emotional scenes so bear with me while i fumble through the next few chs.... unbeta'd if u see any mistakes pls give me a heads up!
> 
> chapter title is from ghost by voxtrot!

_ “You can’t let him know.” _

_ Matoba Seiji stands in front of us. Our master is off on an acting job, and he had asked to meet us away from him. We are assembled in a vague semicircle, with Sasago and Urihime beside me, and Matoba ahead. _

_ I take the time to study him; his presence is as commanding as ever, but I can see the signs of weariness. A careless strand of hair falling out of its tie. A pallor to his face. A slouch to his shoulders. He does not look well. _

_ I voice this thought. Matoba laughs softly, reaching up to push back the strand of hair. _

_ “Why Hiiragi, it almost sounds like you care about me.” Matoba says in his usual, irritating manner. I do not reply. He knows how far my concern for him extends as well as I do. _ _ Natori has a vested interest in him, and I have a contract binding me to Natori. It is, if anything, a business relationship. _

_ “How are you going to combat a god if you aren’t at full health?” Sasago says scornfully, much like she says everything. Matoba doesn’t seem to take any offense to it, instead simply smiling that patient, assured smile of his, and shrugging. _

_ “Do not doubt me. I will complete my part in this, just make sure you complete yours. He can’t—he—” Matoba’s mask cracks for a brief few seconds. Even though I am privy to this side of Matoba far more than any other creature, save Natori himself, it still unnerves me to see this kind of vulnerability painted on the visage of the great clan leader. He closes his eyes, struggling to regain his composure. He continues.  _

_ “He must not know.” Matoba’s voice is softer now, the unstated care evident in every word he shapes. It makes me reconsider my impersonal stance towards him; we may not have very much in common, but he cares very deeply for Natori. He cares enough to run off and face a god to protect him. He cares enough to lie to him to do it. I can, at the very least, understand him. _

_ “We know.” Urihime says. I can see that they sense it too. There is a begrudging sort of respect on Sasago’s features and Urihime almost looks pitying. _

_ Matoba sighs. “Don’t even let him know that there is a god stirring around here. He’d probably get curious and end up finding out and then…” He gives a half-hearted laugh, both fond and exasperated. “Who knows what that impulsive idiot would do.” _

_ If a smile glaces across my face at that, there is nobody to see it and incriminate me. My master is a great many things; quick to act, zealous in any of his exorcist pursuits, and, though I would never say it in such a way, a bit of an impulsive idiot. If he found out there was a god putting a bounty on his head, he wouldn’t ask questions, just run in and shoot first. I should probably feel glad that Matoba is dealing with the issue instead, so I don’t have to watch Natori try to face it alone. _

_ Although, Matoba trying to face a god alone doesn’t sound much better. _

_ “You should probably tell him. He deserves to know.” I caution, keeping my voice without inflection. Matoba seems to acknowledge my words and then push them aside completely. The resolve in his eyes tells me that nothing I say will change his decision. I hadn’t expected anything else, really. _

_ “I will not let this god take him.” _

_ It is too easy for me to imagine Natori saying the same thing in Matoba’s defense. _

_ “...Very well.” I concede. I have always been the spokesperson when it comes to Matoba. Sasago and Urihime both do not trust the man, and their distrust clouds their actions. It is me who Matoba appeals to this time, looking at me for a decision. _

_ “You’ll do it?” He asks. I nod. Sasago and Urihime nod in turn. _

_ Matoba sighs, closing his eyes. He looks relieved. _

_ “Thank you,” he whispers. “If this all goes to plan, I will be meeting you again in a few days, and Shuuichi will never have to know.” He gathers his umbrella and his bow, discarded at his feet at the beginning of the meeting, and takes his leave. _

_ We are all silent until he is far, far out of our sights. _

_ “I don’t think he will come back.” Urihime finally says and she is strangely passive, tone lacking any of the aggression she usually directs towards Matoba. _

_ I can sense that we all agree, even if it is unspoken. Sasago makes a face. _

_ “Better him than our master.” _

_ This gives me pause. I think about Matoba and Natori. I consider their closeness, their intimacy, the plain affection that Natori holds for Matoba. The way his eyes always linger on the door after Matoba leaves, even if he complains about every unannounced visit. The way he smiles brighter, laughs louder, lives better, when Matoba is there to hold him steady. _

_ I find myself disagreeing with Urihime’s sentiment. Natori would not be unaffected if Matoba did not return. I suspect it would damage him far more than Sasago, or even Matoba, realizes. _

* * *

 

Natori comes out of the memory suddenly and without warning. His heart is hammering and his breath is weak and he tries, tries to say something in the face of what he had witnessed. His attempt is stopped before it can begin because as soon as he can think of anything to say, his vision goes black and his legs crumple underneath him.

Natori slumps to the ground, ungraceful and out cold.

* * *

 

When Natori comes to, the first thing he notices is the pounding in his head. He briefly thinks that he’s sporting a hangover, before he hazily remembers that he hates drinking, especially to the point of a hangover. So it’s a normal headache then, nothing to be concerned about.

The second thing he notices is that his vision is blurred, more than sleepiness warrants, and when he reaches up a hand to rub at them he realizes with a start that he’s crying.

The tears run hot down his face. He can’t remember what he had dreamt of, but the effects are obvious. He can’t even remember getting into bed last night; all of his recollections of yesterday are fuzzy from after he had gotten home onwards. Not a good sign.

Breathing harshly, he tries to curb the panic rising inside him. He focuses as best as he can, feels the familiar touch of paper at his hands as he summons a chain. He tries to concentrate, feeling the easy shift of power at his fingers as he sends the paper flying circles around his hands—loop up, over and then through, and repeat—until he’s sure his mind is clear. He wrangles his heartbeat back into compliance and his breath finally comes easier.

The paper comes to a stop in his hands. Pieces of the evening come back to him: the taxi ride home, his shiki gathered in his living room, the final memory of the day imparted and  _ Matoba, Matoba, Matoba _ .

“Seiji.”

The name comes to him unbidden, familiar and alien on his tongue when he whispers it. He feels like he should be having an epiphany, that this is the moment where it all comes crashing back down, this is when he can finally reach out to grab the elusive truth in front of him but—

He does not feel anything. 

His body remembers better than he does because the way  _ Seiji _ falls off his lips is comfortable and well practised, but his mind does not remember. His heart does not remember.

He thinks this realization leaves him feeling worse than if he had remembered.

Slowly, his entire body weighed down by the emptiness he feels, he pulls himself out of bed and to his feet.

He doesn’t get to the door of his bedroom before he hears them. Voices. He stills, remaining out of sight as he tries to pick up the conversation happening outside.

“He deserved to know.” Hiiragi’s voice is quietly furious and challenging as she argues with—somebody. Hearing her speak, it hits Natori once again, the fact that she had  _ known _ , that Sasago and Urihime had all known and let him run off on his wild goose chase anyway. They had kept this from him, though he’s not exactly sure what  _ this _ entails at this point because he has realized that this story has much, much more to it than he had originally thought. And the ayakashi he trusts, no matter what, to watch his back, had lied to him about it.

His fury is blinding, white hot and he is so close to running out onto the scene and demanding answers, demanding retribution, when another voice cuts through his anger.

“Didn’t you promise that Matoba you wouldn’t say anything?”

He recognizes the other side of the argument as Natsume’s lucky cat guardian. He breathes out, trying to release the tension he had built up.

“I do not answer to Matoba. My only loyalty is to Natori, and this is what I judged as being best for him.”

The lucky cat outright growls and Natori hears some of the true power that its small, pudgy statue form belied.

“Why is everybody Natsume gets involved with so troublesome?” It snaps, the sound thundering around his apartment in a moment of anger from the ayakashi. “I don’t trust that that god is gone. That weakling Matoba was nowhere near enough to finish it off. If Natsume gets tangled up in this, it’ll be more trouble for me! Wasn’t the whole point of this charade to let everybody move on and forget about it?”

“Natori would not have moved on.” It isn’t Hiiragi who speaks this time, but Urihime. “It’s why he’s been seeking out the truth lately. Even if his memory is gone, the connection between Master and Matoba is too strong to be erased so easily.” She is assured, calm in her conviction and it sends Natori’s head spinning, the implications for the relationship that he and Matoba ( _ Seiji _ , his mind whispers) had becoming clearer in her words.

He decides he’s heard enough. He needs proper answers,  _ now _ , before the buzzing in his head overtakes his common sense completely.

He storms out into the living room. Like they’ve been caught at a crime scene, the four ayakashi freeze at his approach.

“I want the truth. Now. With nothing left out.” He commands, directing it at his three shiki. “That is an order.”

Beside them, the lucky cat scowls, but it makes no protest, simply settles down on his couch. His shiki share a look, and he expects Hiiragi to be the one speaking, since she had been the one to show him the memory, but it is Urihime who steps forward. Urihime, his first shiki, the one who has been with him the longest and seen the most. Probably the one who understands him the most, and the one best suited for this task.

Her expression is dignified, but he can see the mourning behind her eyes.

“Master,” she says, an acknowledgement and a request for permission. Natori nods. She hesitates and it crosses her face for a brief second, all of her concern and uncertainty and pity, before her neutral expression returns.

“You should probably sit down,” She cautions, so he does, pulling over a dining chair with a jacket that he is now too afraid to question the origin of anymore thrown over it.

“You and Matoba Seiji were…” and she hovers over that last word, even though Natori thinks he already knows what is to come. “...Deeply in love.”

He supposes he should be glad that Urihime isn’t holding back, but the plainness of the words still sends him reeling. He and Matoba—no, Seiji. Involved. In love. He thinks back, recalls something that is as much a memory as it is a feeling; early morning sunshine, fond words exchanged, all observed by a nearby ayakashi, and thinks  _ oh _ .

“One day, Matoba heard stirrings about a very powerful ayakashi, powerful enough to be considered a god, drawing closer to this area. He had plans to go look for it, but he didn’t need to. The god came to him. He had followed the smell of…” and when Urihime breaks off this time, she looks distinctly guilty.

Natori swallows. “Of what?” He asks, keeping his voice soft but clearly commanding.

“Of your magic. He was after you. He tracked a trail of your magic down to Matoba. Of course, when he got there, he realized that he had the wrong person and disappeared again, but Matoba was able to talk to him. This god had a long, long-standing grudge against the Natori clan, and had been hiding and gaining power while waiting for the moment to strike.”

Natsume’s guardian huffs at this, making some comment that Natori can barely make out about  _ must be a thing, with you two, having age-old ayakashi vendettas _ .

Natori isn’t exactly sure how he should be responding to that, but there is a very faint stirring of recognition in his mind. He’s a little too busy taking in the fact that the god had been  _ after him _ to truly commit any thought to it. He really doesn’t enjoy where this tale is going, as things he had picked up during his investigation begin to fall into place. The wrath of a god is a fearsome thing, and for Natori to have escaped completely unscathed… he isn’t sure he wants to know what had been sacrificed.

Urihime glares at the lucky cat and then continues.

“Matoba didn’t take very well to the idea of this ayakashi wreaking vengeance on you.” Her voice borders just on wry and Natori, despite how absurd it is, has the broken urge to laugh. “He went to challenge the god and… was outmatched, but spared. The god had figured out that he had some connection to you, so he cursed Matoba to disappear unless—”

Natori’s brain works in overtime, piecing together the information that he had gathered over the past few days. Flashes of memory appear to him— _ without fail, you will vanish _ —his breath catches— _ you can’t let him know _ —his lungs seem to stop completely— _ something he refused to give up even to a god. _

“Unless he gave me up.” Natori cuts Urihime off, barely a breath used for the words. The grim expression on her face tells him he is right. He doesn’t want to be right.

Matoba Seiji had, and he’s almost dizzy at the thought of it, been in love with him. Enough to condemn himself to oblivion to save him. Matoba Seiji, cruel and conspiring clan leader, flirty and teasing, serene and powerful, had loved Natori (and he had been loved back, if the way Natori’s heartbeat quickens accounts for anything) so much that he had refused to give him up to a god. Even a god.

The worst part of it is that, now that he knows the whole story, he still can’t remember. His body remembers and he swears that loving Seiji must be etched into his bones because he  _ aches _ , his heart wails out an unsteady song in his chest and his fingers clench until they turn white and he can feel the tears building up but—…

He does not feel it. It doesn’t affect him like he knows it should be, even as he curls in on himself and his hands find the jacket, that damned jacket that must belong to Seiji, hanging off of his dining chair like it had belonged there.

It probably had. Natori cannot remember.

“Leave,” he rasps and he doesn’t bother to check if they’re gone before he sobs into the jacket, hot tears that burn all the more for the fact that he doesn’t feel  _ why _ he’s crying. He feels the lack of it; the lack of a love that could overcome a god and bring him back to Seiji’s memory but he doesn’t feel the love itself, or the grief from losing that love. 

He feels like an observer, watching a relationship that isn’t his even though he knows that it is, or it had been.

When he’s all cried out and he is as empty as he feels, there’s a knock on his door. He looks up, then gets up, and feels immediately guilty for it. Despite the fact his body is raging against the circumstances, crying until he can’t cry anymore and trembling with the effort of keeping it together, it barely takes anything for him to shake it off.

He walks over to the door, still in a haze, and pulls it open.

Natsume stands there, face dipped in worry as he takes in Natori’s state. Natori’s instincts kick in somewhere along the way as he takes the sight of the boy in, even when he still feels numb, because he’s spreading a smile across his face and inviting Natsume in. Natsume hovers at the entrance for a while, unsure of what to do as Natori pours himself a glass of water. He knows that if he looks at Natsume, he’s most likely going to see pity, sadness, empathy, and Natori isn’t sure if he can handle that right now.

“Nyanko-sensei sent me. He said it was an emergency and that only I could deal with it.” Natsume explains. Then, with a bow of his head, he steps over the threshold. Natori hazards a look at him. From the look on Natsume’s face, he probably knows. Good, because Natori doesn’t have the energy to explain. “He… he told me. About Matoba.”

Natori nods stiffly, returning to his chosen point of anguish, the dining chair. Natsume pulls up a chair and sits beside him, hands in his lap and eyes down. They are silent for a while. Natsume strikes Natori as the type of person who treasures silence, and he is glad for it, because he isn’t quite ready to talk about it.

However, the words surface eventually, because Natori has never been one to hide his emotions. Or lack of emotions, in this case. Heart on his sleeve, tears in his eyes, his feelings slip like water from his lips, silvery and twisting and transparent.

“I don’t remember him.” He murmurs, subdued. Natsume nods, the kindness in his eyes ineffable and obvious.

“Sensei told me that I knew him too. Fairly well, I guess but I only ever remember meeting him a few times.” Natsume says softly. Natori can maybe hear it in his tone too; the same lacking he is feeling. It's not a feeling he would wish on anybody, but he is glad Natsume can understand.

“I can't remember meeting him at all. I don't remember anything. I know that… that I should, but there’s just nothing.” Natori’s voice catches on  _ nothing, _ and he feels so heavy, weighted down by this emptiness. It makes sense, now, because loneliness is something that has dogged him his entire life but never like it has in the past month, leaving him feeling hollow and lost and like he's missing a part of himself. Because he is. He is missing a part of himself and he cannot even remember it to properly mourn it.

“I’m sorry,” Natsume fumbles, but Natori knows that the intention is there, “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now.”

Natori manages a hollow laugh. “I don’t really feel much.”

Natsume watches him for a while after that. He seems to be wrestling with a decision; Natsume has always been so easy to read, and Natori thinks he might’ve been like that too, before the world handed him a mask and told him to use it like a weapon.

When Natsume comes to a conclusion, he pulls his chair a little closer to Natori’s, enough that he could reach out to him. He doesn’t, simply settles into the chair instead, eyes still on Natori.

“You don’t have to go through this alone,” is what he says after their silence has paid its dues. Natori doesn’t think there’s a right thing to say in this situation, but it’s as close as it gets. He sees it, the way loneliness hangs off of Natsume; a side effect of belonging to two worlds. If he looks in the mirror, he would probably see that same aura.

Natori breathes out and hates how steady it comes despite everything and nods. “Yeah. Thank you.”

The ever-rising sun continues on its motion in the sky, filling Natori’s apartment with yellow and gold. He and Natsume, side by side, are cast into light. Natori, in the light of a new day, makes a decision. He has never been one for lying in wait, playing the long game. It’s written into him, in any situation, to lash out, to  _ fight back _ . And even if he can’t remember, he’s sure he would fight for Seiji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> characterizing natori's shiki will always be a pleasure (even if i take a few liberties) and uhhhh natori and natsume make me real emo


End file.
